


A sort of gravity

by Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, Makeup Sex, Rough Sex, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/pseuds/Wolftraps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite what anyone else may say, they don't fight much. Or at all really.</p>
<p>The first time they really fight isn't about anything important, but it's also about everything important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A sort of gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Despite what anyone else may say, they don't fight much. Or at all really. They bicker and jab and argue and berate, but they don't fight. Usually when things get serious, it's one-sided. The other knows they screwed up.   
  
The first time they really fight isn't about anything important. Stiles misplaces an artifact that they'll need at some point but not for a week at least, and Derek snaps. By the time they start screaming and Stiles is throwing anything he can get his hands on, they both know that that's not really what the fight is about.   
  
It's everything that's built up over the months they've been together. Every forgotten promise, every lie by omission, every near death experience. It's every item Stiles has lost and every decision he couldn't make. It's all the times Derek wouldn't open up, all the times he wouldn't explain, and the way he always seems like he's waiting for Stiles to turn on him.   
  
It's all the times they wouldn't listen. It's every teasing comment said a little too seriously.   
  
The first time they really fight isn't about anything important, but it's also about everything important. And when Stiles storms out of Derek's apartment, fists clenched and tears in his eyes, they both know he won't be coming back again.   
  
\-----------   
  
  
They don't speak again until their second fight, months later and only a couple weeks before Stiles leaves for college. Though they don't talk much then, either. Instead, they stumble back to Derek's apartment in the wake of a fight with a sphinx of all things, both a bit worse for wear. Derek takes care of Stiles's few scratches, catalogues his bruises, just like he always used to. And then they sit there, staring at each other but not meeting eyes, while Derek's wounds stitch closed, until Stiles's impatience gets the better of him.   
  
"I see you've learned the error of your ways," Stiles says, unable to keep the spite from his sarcasm. Derek raises his eyebrows in question and Stiles grits his teeth. "You just keep throwing yourself into things, fuck the consequences. Just like always. You don't care what happens to you."   
  
"Me?" Derek asks incredulously. "You shouldn't have even been out there! What the hell were you thinking, trying to face that thing alone?" Stiles is on his feet now, the distance between them halved in seconds, and Derek can't help stepping in as well. It's been months since they've seen each other, but Stiles has always had this sort of gravity about him that Derek is still unable to resist.   
  
"I don't know, Derek. Maybe I was thinking sphinxes are smart. Maybe I was thinking they like riddles and mind games and aren't known for jumping straight to the evisceration. And since, with Lydia already gone, I seem to be the only one still here with _half a brain_ , I thought I'd give the talking thing a try." There's less than a foot between them now, Stiles poking a finger into Derek's chest. It's a little disappointing and a lot uncomfortably arousing that there's no give. "Which was _working_ until you jumped in."   
  
"It was reckless," Derek snaps. "You should have taken Scott with you at least."   
  
"What, because I'm so weak?" Thunder is falling over Stiles's face, but Derek doesn't take the warning. He's too caught up in Stiles's scent and the sound of his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breath and the flash of his eyes and the heat of his body so close and _Stiles._   
  
" _Yes_ ," he says.   
  
Stiles growls, a deep, animalistic sound that sends a shiver down Derek's spine, and shoves at his chest with both hands, forcing Derek to take a step back. They glare at each other for half a second, and suddenly they're both in motion. Stiles reaches out to twine his fingers, his long, thin fingers that drive Derek mad, through Derek's hair and pulls him into a harsh kiss. Meanwhile Derek is pressing in close, backing Stiles up until he hits the wall. And some of his injuries protest, but Stiles can't bring himself to care, because Derek's hands are sliding rough down his sides, leaving shivers in their wake, and it all just seems to send even more blood rushing to his cock.   
  
A breathy sigh escapes him, and when Derek gets that self-satisfied smirk, Stiles surges forward to capture Derek's lower lip between his teeth, sucking and worrying at it until it's thick in his mouth and draws out a groan. Then he bites down, not quite hard enough to draw blood, and inhales the resulting gasp with a grin.   
  
Stiles lets out a groan of his own not long after as Derek palms his ass, lifting his thighs to wrap around Derek's waist and grinding down into him.   
  
"Fuck," Stiles breathes and lets his head fall back against the cool wall. It doesn't make a difference, though. They could be in the antarctic and he'd still feel like the fires of hell had been lit under his skin everywhere that Derek touched. His fingers press momentary bruises into Derek's shoulders as their still-clothed erections drag against each other with the torturous feeling that it will never be enough.   
  
With Stiles's neck stretched and bared, Derek can't resist the temptation. He ducks his head to lick a stripe up the exposed throat and latches on just under the jawline, sucking and biting until the skin turns an angry red, promising to be a deep bruise in the morning, then moves down toward the junction of Stiles's shoulder and does it again. He grips a hip tightly in one hand while the other burrows beneath Stiles's shirt.   
  
"God, you're such an asshole," Stiles says, bucking into the friction at their groins, then lifts his arms, braces his hands against the wall behind him, and _shoves_. It takes Derek off guard, just enough to send them toppling over. Stiles's knees are going to be seriously bruised from the impact, but it's worth it to be straddling Derek now, looking into his dark eyes that promise to eat Stiles alive, feeling the quick rise and fall of his chest under Stiles's hands.   
  
"Sometimes," Stiles breathes into the curve of Derek's jaw, dragging his teeth down it. He grabs Derek's wrists and presses them hard into the floor beside his head. Derek could break the hold, but he won't; not yet. "I used to think about pinning you down like this, tying you up so you couldn't run away, and making you talk to me."   
  
Nails bite into Derek's wrists as the grip tightens, and he bucks up into Stiles as best he can without unseating him, trying to get the friction back.   
  
"I knew you wouldn't though." Stiles pulls back to stare Derek in the eyes. They both freeze. "You never would. Because you still don't. Fucking. Trust me." His voice is angry, but his eyes are sad, and Derek can't do it anymore.   
  
He surges up, breaking the grip on his arms to rest his hands on either side of Stiles's head, and kisses him. It's deep and warm and wet and hard, but it doesn't have any of the harshness their kisses did before. Stiles's hands hover before finally settling, soft, on Derek's upper arms. When they finally part, breathing hard into each other's mouths, the anger that was driving them is gone, and something else is rising up in its place.   
  
"Derek," Stiles whispers, and then they're both on their feet, kicking off shoes and tugging at each other's clothes as they fumble toward the bed.   
  
It isn't soft. Nothing between them ever is. It's frantic and messy. The slide of sweaty skin on skin, the press of strong hands everywhere they can touch, the slick of lube easing the way. Derek breathes Stiles's name as Stiles presses a second long, skilled finger into his ass. And Stiles strangles out a response when he finally presses into Derek not long, but still too long, after.   
  
They try to set a slow pace, but neither can keep it up for long. Wandering hands and wet tongues try to trace every inch of skin. Stiles only manages a couple shallow thrusts before he hooks his arms under Derek's knees and pushes in hard, relishing in Derek's gasps and the clawed hand that digs into the top of his ass, pulling him in deeper.   
  
Feeling the heat building up, Stiles frees one arm to grab Derek's cock, still slick with lube from their quickly abandoned attempts at handjobs. He twists his palm over the head, smiles at Derek's moan, and pumps it in time with his thrusts until Derek jerks, clenching down on Stiles's length in his ass, arching so gorgeously that Stiles can't help leaning in to lick a trail from his sternum to his ear.   
  
" _I missed you_ ," Stiles whispers, and drags his teeth along the rim of Derek's ear before gripping tight to his hips and thrusting once, twice more, and coming hard.   
  
  
Derek traces Stiles's cheekbone absently later, once they're cleaned up some and resting atop the covers. He catalogues the bruises again, adding in the new ones he made. Half asleep, Stiles makes a wondering noise and looks up at him with that interrogatory face that makes Derek want to smack him or kiss him senseless.   
  
"I do trust you, Stiles," Derek says. "I have since that night in the pool, even if I didn't want to. I just don't trust the world, and I don't trust myself."   
  
Stiles scoffs. "You're an idiot," he mumbles into Derek's shoulder, throws an arm across his chest and squeezes. "I'm not going anywhere. Now go to sleep."   
  
"You're leaving in a week for college." Stiles glares up at him through half-lidded eyes and waves a hand in Derek's face.   
  
"Technicalities. You know what I mean. Can we fucking sleep now? Because I love you, but I'm not afraid to smother you if you keep ruining the afterglow."   
  
Derek smiles and nods, closes his eyes and pulls Stiles in closer. "I love you too," he whispers into soft hair.   
  
\---   
  
  
Their third fight doesn't happen until Stiles can't make it home for Spring Break. When Derek drives out to his campus instead, they proceed to have their fourth and fifth, and Stiles's roommate makes the wise decision to go home early instead of spending a full weekend sexiled from their dorm.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check me out on [Tumblr](http://wolftraps.tumblr.com); I usually post things there long before they wind up here.


End file.
